Liza.  That’s not true.  He treats a flower girl as if she was a duchess.

Higgins.  And I treat a duchess as if she was a flower girl.

Liza.  I see. [She turns away composedly, and sits on the ottoman, facing the window].  The same to everybody.

Higgins.  Just so.

Liza.  Like father.

Higgins [grinning, a little taken down] Without accepting the comparison at all points, Eliza, it’s quite true that your father is not a snob, and that he will be quite at home in any station of life to which his eccentric destiny may call him. [Seriously] The great secret, Eliza, is not having bad manners or good manners or any other particular sort of manners, but having the same manner for all human souls:  in short, behaving as if you were in Heaven, where there are no third-class carriages, and one soul is as good as another.

Liza.  Amen.  You are a born preacher.

Higgins [irritated] The question is not whether I treat you rudely, but whether you ever heard me treat anyone else better.

Liza [with sudden sincerity] I don’t care how you treat me.  I don’t mind your swearing at me.  I don’t mind a black eye:  I’ve had one before this.  But [standing up and facing him] I won’t be passed over.

Higgins.  Then get out of my way; for I won’t stop for you.  You talk about me as if I were a motor bus.

Liza.  So you are a motor bus:  all bounce and go, and no consideration for anyone.  But I can do without you:  don’t think I can’t.

Higgins.  I know you can.  I told you you could.

Liza [wounded, getting away from him to the other side of the ottoman with her face to the hearth] I know you did, you brute.  You wanted to get rid of me.

Higgins.  Liar.

Liza.  Thank you. [She sits down with dignity].

Higgins.  You never asked yourself, I suppose, whether I could do without you.

Liza [earnestly] Don’t you try to get round me.  You’ll have to do without me.

Higgins [arrogant] I can do without anybody.  I have my own soul:  my own spark of divine fire.  But [with sudden humility] I shall miss you, Eliza. [He sits down near her on the ottoman].  I have learnt something from your idiotic notions:  I confess that humbly and gratefully.  And I have grown accustomed to your voice and appearance.  I like them, rather.

Liza.  Well, you have both of them on your gramophone and in your book of photographs.  When you feel lonely without me, you can turn the machine on.  It’s got no feelings to hurt.

Higgins.  I can’t turn your soul on.  Leave me those feelings; and you can take away the voice and the face.  They are not you.

Liza.  Oh, you are a devil.  You can twist the heart in a girl as easy as some could twist her arms to hurt her.  Mrs. Pearce warned me.  Time and again she has wanted to leave you; and you always got round her at the last minute.  And you don’t care a bit for her.  And you don’t care a bit for me.